


Faith Shall Be Your Shield

by dannomar



Category: Octopath Traveler (Video Game)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-08
Updated: 2018-08-07
Packaged: 2019-06-23 16:20:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15610191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dannomar/pseuds/dannomar
Summary: Primrose never gave much consideration to Ophilia, until she did.Or, Primrose starts to fall for Ophilia without meaning to and turns into a mess.





	Faith Shall Be Your Shield

**Author's Note:**

> Here's the deal - Primrose's chapter 2 has left me with some SERIOUS feelings, and suddenly I wrote this. I haven't written any fanfiction in a hella long time, so, bear with me. I have no idea how long this will be. I'm going to be writing as I continue to play the game so...I have no idea. It'll be short though, probably just a few chapters at most.
> 
> Anyway, enjoy this short first chapter. Thanks!

The air in the tavern was thick with the heat from the fire and the people crowded around the bar, trying to find warmth from the sharp chill of Snowstill’s night air. Primrose leaned back against the counter of the bar, watching her fellow companions absently as she mulled over the night’s events, idly gripping her father’s dagger in hand. She felt a grim sort of satisfaction that she had finally eliminated one of the crows who had killed her father. Now she had to return home - to her true home, of Noblecourt, not the harsh desert she had lived in for the last ten years - and a sliver of apprehension formed in the pit of her stomach.

 

_No. I must have faith. I will see the job done, no matter what._

 

A peal of laughter interrupted her thoughts and she glanced up to see Tressa cheering on H’annit as she and Alfyn arm wrestled at a table. A smirk grew on her lips as Alfyn promptly lost to the huntress.

 

“Shucks, H’annit, you sure are strong!” Alfyn good-naturedly accepted his defeat with a wide smile.

 

“Thou didst put up a good fight,” H’annit said solemnly, and Primrose knew she was only saying so to make Alfyn feel better. Primrose doubted H’annit even had to try against the apothecary, though he could certainly hold his own in battle and was passably capable with an axe; H'annit had biceps toned and hardened from years of drawing her longbows, though, and made for a much more intimidating figure. Alfyn, however, didn’t look bothered in the least.

 

“Do you think you could beat Olberic?” Tessa was asking, poking the hard muscles of H’annit’s arms speculatively.

 

“If he wouldst accept mine challenge,” H’annit said, a hint of a smile playing at the corner of her lips.

 

“I never turn down a challenge,” Olberic declared, already easing Alfyn out of the way to sit across from H’annit.

 

Primrose cast her eyes around the rest of the tavern, scanning for her other traveling companions. Therion was at the other end of the bar, nursing a beer and eyeing a drunk patron - probably deciding whether or not he was going to relieve the man of the rest of his possessions.

 

Cyrus was deep in conversation with a man who had invented portable hand warmers, completely oblivious to the female onlookers who were trying to get his attention. It was almost refreshing to know a man more interested in knowledge than women, Primrose mused.

 

Tressa was still cheering on H’annit while Alfyn had taken Olberic’s side and was urging him on. Olberic and H’annit seemed to be locked in a stalemate, neither’s arm drifting either way, though the muscles in their arms shook ever so slightly. Olberic’s face was set in deep concentration, brow furrowed slightly, and H’annit, just as focused, didn't even appear to be breaking a sweat, as cool-headed as ever.

 

That only left -

“They seem to be having fun.”

 

Primrose almost jumped but managed to regain control of herself when she realized who was speaking. It was her last companion, Ophilia. She glanced over at the cleric, smiling wryly.

 

“Who would you put your money on, Sister?”

 

“I couldn’t say, to be honest. What do you think?” Ophilia questioned, and Primrose shrugged.

 

“They seem to be matched in strength - it’s a battle of stamina now. Olberic’s got the discipline, but I’m willing to bet H’annit has the patience to go on until she gets what she wants,” she replied, biting down a smirk.

 

“I see...stamina is important,” Ophilia mused, watching the two arm wrestlers pensively.

 

“Oh yes, stamina comes in handy in plenty of situations,” Primrose said suggestively and was pleased to see the cleric’s cheeks redden slightly.

 

“Yes, well...I uh…”

 

Primrose chuckled. Honestly, it was too easy with Ophilia. She was sweet and innocent and nearly a polar opposite to Primrose herself. But she was also determined and kind and Primrose admired that about the pretty young cleric. She had witnessed Ophelia's generosity and caring when they had all visited Saintsbridge.

 

“My apologies, Sister, I was jesting.”

 

Ophilia accepted her apology gracefully and with a smile. “How are you? I don't mean to pry, only, you seemed lost in thought over here by yourself.”

 

“Merely considering my journey from here,” Primrose said. “I am fine.”

 

“That dagger,” Ophilia ventured. “You said it was your father's?”

 

“Yes, he gave it to me when I was only a child. It has our family motto inscribed on it,” she tilted the dagger slightly and the tavern light glinted off the inscription.

 

“‘Faith shall be your shield’,” Ophilia read. “That’s lovely.”

 

Primrose chuckled darkly. “Perhaps not as nice as it sounds. House Azlehart gained its’ power through betrayal and murder...but we always had our convictions. Just as I have mine. I will seek out the other two men who murdered my father and see his revenge.” With one last glance at the dagger, she slid it back out of sight, safely at her side.

 

“You know…” Ophelia began, hesitating.

 

“Yes…?” Primrose cocked an eyebrow, urging her to continue.

 

“It's just that, I think what you've done is very brave. It must have been so hard waiting in Sunshade all those years, just hoping to pick up a clue about your father's killers, and then to go after them using your wiles and your smarts…” Here, Ophilia's cheeks reddened once more. “I think you're the bravest person I've ever met, is all.” She smiled, both earnest and embarrassed, and all Primrose could do was blink in surprise. Primrose tried to deflect, oddly uncomfortable with the praise.

 

“I think you’re brave yourself if you’d like to know,” she admitted. “Taking on the Kindling in place of your sister - it’s quite selfless of you. Everything I’ve done has been for my father, but it has also been for me - to sate my own thirst for revenge. My journey has been...selfish. I have done many things...I’m not proud of.”

 

“Primrose…” Ophilia’s voice was soft, but not with pity.

 

“Don’t get me wrong,” Primrose said with a wave. “I would do it all again if I had to. And finally, after all these years, I’ve made progress. For that, I can be content.”

 

Ophilia’s head was tilted slightly, regarding her silently, and Primrose felt her skin prickle as light brown eyes dissected her, but she held her gaze without shrinking away. “It is said that Lord Aelfric brought fire down from the heavens, and brought light to all of Osterra. When I was very young, I was orphaned by war,” Ophilia finally said. “It was...a very dark time for me. Archbishop Josef and his daughter, Lianna, they saved me from the streets. Their kindness saved me, and I like to think of them finding me as the will of Aelfric, to shed a little light in my life. I think you believe that your life is encased in shadows, Primrose, that _you_ belong in the shadows for the things you have done. But remember, shadows only exist where there is light. You have good in you, I have seen it. As long as I am on my pilgrimage, I will do what I can to help you on your journey as well.”

 

Again, Primrose found herself at a loss for words. She was not one much for religion, but at that particular moment, she found herself wondering if Aelfric had sent Ophilia down to her. Where Primrose was dark, Ophilia was light, and there was a low warmth deep in her chest from Ophilia’s words.

 

Finally, her senses returned and she replied in the only way she knew how. “Sister, if you keep flattering me, I'm going to think you like me,” she rasped.

 

“I do! I mean, as a friend, not like - that is, there's nothing wrong with _that_ either, I just -”

 

Primrose watched with amusement as Ophilia frantically tried to explain herself, her gesturing becoming more wild until she nearly knocked Primrose out with her staff. She hastily reached out to grab the flailing staff, and Ophilia’s mouth snapped shut audibly.

 

“I was teasing again,” she laughed, only releasing the staff when she was sure the cleric was done. “Friends, hm?”

 

“Oh! Yes, if you'd like, that is…” Ophilia's whole face was red, from the roots of her blonde hair to her chin. It was adorable.

 

“I suppose,” Primrose sighed, pushing away from the bar in one smooth motion. “Just as long as you keep control of that staff there, Sister, we almost had a casualty.”

 

Ophilia straightened, gripping her staff firmly. “I promise,” she swore, her blush finally receding. Somewhere in the background, Primrose was aware that the arm wrestling contest had been won, by whom she didn't know.

 

“Thank you, by the way,” Primrose added sincerely. “For the kind words,” she added at Ophilia's puzzled expression.

 

“They weren't just kind words. I meant what I said.”

 

“Right, well...I appreciate it, Sister.”

 

“Please, if we are to be friends...Ophilia will do just fine.”

 

“Very well, Ophilia,” Primrose smiled. “But the day has been long and I do believe I hear a bed calling my name.”

 

“Yes...goodnight, Primrose. May the Sacred Flame guide you.”

 

Primrose only responded with a curl of her fingers and a saunter in her hips but swallowed heavily as she left the tavern for the Inn. Despite the cold of the air, she felt warm. Maybe there was more to this Sacred Flame than she had previously thought.

 

(Maybe there was more to Ophilia than she thought.)

  
  
  



End file.
